A Bond Between Brothers
by Dae the Shadow
Summary: A small story about Elladan and Elrohir, their special bond and how it helped them to survive yet another trouble.


Summary: A small story about Elladan and Elrohir, their special bond and how it helped them to survive another trouble.

Disclaimer: I respect the work done by the professor and would never dare to claim any of his creations to be mine.

A BOND BETWEEN BROTHERS

The pain was spreading through his body like a fire, embracing him, cradling in it's welcomed arms. No light could be seen around, leaving only darkness and silence keeping him company. Elladan shivered and almost chocked from pain that ran up and down his body, coming seemingly from every tiny cell he had in him. He was alone, in darkness, dieing. The young elf felt tears stinging his eyes, rolling down scratched and cut cheeks. He had faced deadly situations before, but never had he thought that he would be forced to pass into halls of Mandos like this, left in the lonely darkness, his fate unknown to those, whom he kept dear to his heart.

The darkness thickened, trying to swallow the last remains of his consciousness. It's luring whisper was promising painless void, gently making him stop struggling. Somewhere in the back of his mind Elladan knew that should he surrender and went to sleep, he would never wake up again and so he struggled against the pain, against the darkness, against his own weariness. Yet he knew that his fight was already doomed to defeat. Unless some miracle comes his way. Even though his position was seemingly helpless, Elladan kept the glint of hope burning deep inside his heart, warming him, giving him strength to fight against death for another moment …

Elladan woke up with a startle. Jerking into sitting position with the soft gasp, he was actually surprised to find himself considerably well. His breathing was labored and his heart raced like a rabbit, chased by the pack of hungry wolves, but he could feel no pain. Calming himself down a bit, the young elf looked around, almost expecting to see the all-consuming darkness. This wasn't a case. He was sitting in his own bed, in his own room. Merry rays of sunlight were dancing on the walls, entering the room through the huge window, carved in the form of arch. Warm summer wind was caressing the elf's skin, quickly drying cold droplets of sweat that had formed on Elladan's brow. The elf took few deep breath, steadying himself. To his utter dismay and worry, he found his hands slightly shaking and his mind still under the impression of the horrific dream.

A dream? Was it really just a dream? Elladan shook his head slightly, trying to make the shadow that was still hanging over his mind and heart go away. It was so real… He had actually felt all the pain, he had believed that he was dieing. Of course it wasn't unheard of to have such realistic dreams, but this one was beating any record. Elladan wondered what had caused it in the first place. Surely he had no reason to seeing nightmares. Unless…

Not wishing to let his thoughts wander that particular road, the young elf quickly got out of the bed. It was still rather early, but he knew his father to be an early riser. Lord Elrond had never been the one to stay late in bed and Elladan was sure that he can find his father either in his study or in the library.

Dressing up quickly, he walked out of his room, his sight stopping briefly on the empty bed at the opposite wall of the room. Shaking his head, he turned around and went down the hall, deciding to check his father's chambers in the first place. Knocking slightly at the beautifully curved door, Elladan waited for reply, listening intently to hear any small sound from the room.

Seconds were slowly passing by, but there was no reply from the other side of the door. Sighing, Elladan continued his journey down the hall, careful not to wake any elf that may still be sleeping. The library of Imladris occupied a rather impressing amount of space. Hundreds of thousands of scrolls and books were being kept there, all cataloged and well cared for. There, sitting in the chair near the huge window, was Elrond Peredhil, the lord of Imladris. His ageless face was calm as his eyes moved down the page of a rather thick, seriously looking book. But at the sound of soft footsteps, a gentle smile moved to his lips.

"Good morning, my son. I hope you slept well?" He looked up at Elladan, noting with concern the lines of trouble written over younger elf's face.

"Good morning, father." Elladan tried to smile, but failed. It seemed that unlike any other nightmare, his dream wasn't weakened by the smile of the sun, still having a firm grip over his soul. "I'm afraid, my dreams were far from pleasant."

"Elladan, tell me what exactly were you dreaming about?" Elrond closed the book, putting it aside and motioning for his son to sit down.

Elladan complied. He felt that there were more to his dream than a simple nightmare and he knew that his father could be the one to explain it.

"It was dark and silent." He began, closing his eyes and letting the memories of his dream come to surface again. He almost gasped. Never before had he had such a weird feeling. It was like living through the dream all over again. Not even tiniest detail escaped his memory. "I… I was lying in lots of pain, unable to move. I think I was dieing… And I felt alone…"

His voice broke. Elladan blinked furiously, trying to hold the tears that came to his eyes. The memories were so strong, that he found it almost impossible to continue the story.

Elrond watched his son worriedly. He had sensed something wrong this morning too. Just a few minutes after he woke up and entered the library. A hint of pain that clenched his heart and touched his soul. But why would Elladan feel it so strongly? Unless…

As if reading his father's mind, Elladan looked up, pain and sorrow obvious in his gaze.

"Do you think Elrohir may be in trouble?"

Elrond locked eyes with his troubled son. What could he say? How could he know the answer to such a question? In the case like this his usually reasonable brain was clouded with a paternal concern and therefore he could provide Elladan with no real answer.

Elrohir had gone with a few warriors to a nearby village to confirm the rumors of a recent orc attack. Elladan wasn't completely healed from their last journey and therefore Elrond insisted for his son to stay behind. Elladan was supposed to go after his brother in a couple of days should the rumors confirm.

"I don't know, my son." Elrond sighed, taking Elladan's hand in his own. "But I hope he is fine."

Elladan said nothing, feeling panic and despair washing over him in a strong waves. He feared even to think about the fact that his dream might have been an echo of his twin's real suffering.

"Are you well enough for traveling?" Elrond asked suddenly, studying his son's face attentively.

"Yes, father." Elladan nodded, a bit surprised that he wouldn't have to argue this time, convincing his father that he had to go.

"I'll ask Glorfindel to take few warriors and accompany you then. I think you'll still be able to track your brother." Elrond said softly. He watched his son standing up, gratitude shining in his eyes, and walking toward the door. "Elladan," he called, waiting until the younger elf turn to him, "be careful. And bring your brother home."

Elladan nodded, hurrying out the library. The halls of his home had never felt so empty and silent. Although the elves were slowly returning to their daily routine, awoken by the soft light of a new day, for the young elf one important person was missing. A person that meant more than his own life to him. Elladan fastened his pace, unaware of glares and soft whispers that had accompanied him along the way. He had one goal at the moment: to find out what mass his brother had dragged himself into this time and get his twin out in one piece.

Elladan got dressed for the journey in a record time, taking his traveling bag and refilling the supply of herbs. He made sure he had means for treating any possible injury his brother could have sustained. Strapping the quiver onto it's usual place behind his back, he shielded his sword and grasped his bow.

"I see that you are ready." Soft and slightly amused voice said from the doorway, startling Elladan and making him turn around sharply. In his worry and haste the young elf failed to notice lord Glorfindel coming to stand in the doorframe of his room.

"I guess I have a good reason for that." He said plainly, receiving a grim half-smile from the golden-haired elf. "Are the horses ready?"

"They would be in few minutes."

"Let us leave than." Elladan said, a firm determination shining in his eyes. 'Hold on, brother. I'm coming…' he thought, tightening the grip on his bow. 'Just hold on."

Glorfindel followed the younger elf outside, watching him closely. The twins had always amused him. They could be rather annoying, pulling pranks on almost every being in the walls of Imladris and driving elder elves mad at times, but their unwavering loyalty toward each other was unbreakable. They were sharing two halves of one soul it seemed. A simple glance, jest, a single word was enough for them to understand each other. And it was something that could be described as nothing else but a great gift. Besides, although their actions were usually causing lots of curses and angered remarks, the two young elves were bringing life into peaceful existence of elves. At times like this, when one of the twins was missing or injured, for elven heart it was unbearably hard to watch the other suffering.

Glorfindel shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He would have time to dwell on this matter later. After they find Elrohir and bring him home. And the golden-haired warrior could only pray to Valar that the young elf would be all right. Otherwise, Imladris would get into a real trouble.

"All is ready, my lords," A servant came, bowing in respect. "The horses are saddled and the warriors are waiting."

Thanking the elf and dismissing him, Glorfindel motioned Elladan to go forward, smiling reassuringly. He himself lingered a bit, locking eyes with Elrond.

"Keep an eye on him, my friend." The lord of Imladris asked softly.

"I will." Glorfindel promised, grasping his friend's shoulder. "Do not despair. All would end up well. One way or another."

Elrond watched his friend joining the group of waiting elves. He knew that it would help no one if he would go on with unconfirmed worry, but couldn't help it. His mind was telling him that Elrohir could be just fine, helping the villagers. But the feeling of dread was settling in his loving heart and Elrond knew that it would take nothing less than seeing his son to banish the worry.

"Good luck to you, and may the Valar watch over you." He said as graceful elven figures disappeared in the forest.

Elrohir tried not to move, not to breath, not to think, do nothing that can multiply the pain in his body. His brain couldn't even determined the origin of his hurts. It seemed that every inch of his body was signaling about it's miserable state and his mind couldn't process all of this signals. All his brain was able to do was sanding a desperate scream of pain to it's owner. His heart was still beating, pumping blood through his veins and out of his body through innumerous cuts and small wounds he sustained. And despite the sharp pain in his chest, the young elf had to breath or rather suck in some air, complying to the natural surviving instinct. Even this small, absolutely necessary actions were adding pain, making part of his brain to wish the painless oblivion swallowing his conscious at last. Yet, another part of him screamed in protest, knowing that to sleep now would mean death. And Elrohir couldn't allow himself the luxury of simply dieing, leaving his hurting body and joining hid ancestors in the Halls of Mandos. Because he knew far too well that his spirit wouldn't be the only one to leave Middle Earth. His brother would follow, succumbing to despair, and that was something Elrohir wouldn't allow. He willed himself to stay awake. 'A little bit more,' his mind ordered, almost bagged his body. 'Elladan is coming. I know he is. He'll find me. I just need to hold on. I have to.' Inspired by this thoughts his suffering body complied in staying awake for a few more minutes, letting his will to gather strength for yet another mutual battle.

Elladan was riding ahead of the small group, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground below, searching for the clues to where his brother and his companions went. He was sure that Elrohir would have taken the fastest root to the village and therefore he had had to follow the southern road for a few miles before turning to the west. That made necessary to look for any signs of the place where the elves they were following had turned from the road.

The young elf was aware of Glorfindel's eyes following his every movement. At other times it might have annoyed him, but at the moment Elladan simply didn't care. The elven lord could drill a hole in him with his gaze for all the young elf cared. Right at the moment his only concern was of his brother and anything else would need to wait for better times.

"Stop!" He cried out, putting his hand up to signal the rest of the group to stop. "Look, that's where they moved eastern." He said excitedly, pointing at the soft impressions of hooves in the moist forest floor.

"I think you are right." Glorfindel nodded, dismounting and kneeling near the tracks. "Let's be off then." He jumped onto the back of his horse. "Be attentive from now on." He warned. "For if lord Elrohir and his troops had found any trouble it would be either on this part of their way or in the village itself."

The warriors nodded silently, moving after the two lords. The forest was living it's own life, as if unaware o the distressed elves that were wandering among the old trees. It could sense the tenseness, of course, yet it's own routine was more appealing to it than a rush of activity from the intruders, even though they were elves.

But as they ventured further into the forest, the elves found traces of something foul. This impression was everywhere: in the voices of trees, in the whispering of winds… and at the ground.

Glorfindel cursed under his breath as his gaze fell upon the set of deep footprints that were marveling the earth in foul patterns. He felt more then saw Elladan's face going paler, as a breath was caught in the young elf's throat.

Sudden rush of memories, that he had tried to forget so hard, clouded his vision. Memories of his mother after they found her in the hands of orcs, of her leaving Imladris to travel to Grey Heavens, of dozens of orcs which Elrohir and he himself had slaughtered. Elrohir… The thought of finding his brother at the hands of this foul creatures was unacceptable.

"How old this tracks are?" He asked in a low voice that was tight with anger.

"They are fresh. About as fresh as the elven tracks are." Glorfindel stated, hating to confirm such an evil news but knowing well that it was needed to be done.

"Let's follow them then." Elladan locked eyes with the elder elf. "And let's make a haste."

No one spoke a word to answer the young elf. Every warrior in their group was now concern for the fate of their fellows. But no words were needed as they resumed riding, weapons prepared for battle.

It was much easier to follow orcs' trail and the small party was able to ride much faster. It wasn't long before they had finally reached the battlefield. Elladan gagged at the sight. Bodies were laying everywhere around at the footstep of a rocky hill near the signs of a fresh landslide that had half-buried few corpses. Dead orcs and elves were staring at them with unseeing eyes, different emotions being forever curved onto their faces. Forcing himself to look back, Elladan dismounted, fear gripping onto his heart. He observed the scene, a lump forming in his throat. But there were no signs of Elrohir. Elladan couldn't decide whether it was good or not.

"Everyone is dead, except for lord Elrohir." One of the warriors spoke up, looking around. "There are no traces of him except his dead horse."

"Yes, but ors' tracks are resuming." Glorfindel stated, studying the ground on the other side of the clearing.

"Should we pursuit them?" Another warrior asked. It was obvious that he didn't want to leave his dead companions, but the small hope of finding their young lord alive was enough to drive him into action.

"Yes, we should." Elladan said, battling with his own strange feelings. "And we will."

He moved toward his horse without looking to see if anyone had followed. He needed to find his brother! But where did this strange doubtful feeling came from? Why he wanted to stay so badly? Having no answer to this question, Elladan jumped onto his horse's back. Being silently followed by other elves, the young lord rushed to where the orcs' tracks were leading.

Rarely did elves fought with such a fury, whishing no mercy upon their enemies. 'But orcs deserved no mercy', Elladan decided, beheading another foul creature. They were made by darkness and being led by the same darkness that had settled deep in their hearts. And this particular orcs had made a mistake following and killing the elves.

Glorfindel tried to stay near his young companion during the battle, watching Elladan's back. And making sure that this young one wouldn't make some fatal mistake, driven by grief or despair. So far, Elladan seemed to take a special pleasure in delivering deaths to orcs that hadn't managed to escape into forest. Yet, Glorfindel could hardly blame him. The sight of what they had done and the uncertainty of what else could they have done were driving every elf in their group furious. And a furious elf, armed with a sharp sword wasn't the best collocutor.

"This can't be!" One of the foul creatures growled, eying Elladan with hatred and fear. "I saw the rocks kill you."

This statement had frozen Elladan in spot. He wasn't aware of the orc's blade coming down, didn't hear the shouts of warning or evil smirk on the creature's lips. His world had blackened for a moment. Darkness, silence, all-consuming pain, - those were the most bright feelings from his dream. Rocks, sight of landslide, that had half-buried few orcs' corpses… That's why he was so reluctant to leave the place!

A violent push made Elladan cut the in of his thoughts and return to the present.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Glorfindel roared, jerking him to his feet.

The sounds of battle were dieing out as the remaining orcs were falling to the elven blades. Elladan looked at the furious Glorfindel, who was clutching one hand to his left shoulder which was grazed by the orc's scimitar from the blow that was meant to kill Elladan. Yet the younger elf couldn't even feel fear at the moment.

"I think I know where Elrohir is."

Those softly-spoken words hold so much pain and sorrow that Glorfindel's fury died down, like a fire would when fed by nothing. He only nodded at the younger elf, following him back to their horses and motioning for the rest of the group to come as well. He spared a glance over the warriors, noting that none seemed to be wounded seriously, and jumped in his saddle, wincing as the sudden movement jarred his arm.

They returned to the hill at the top possible speed. Elladan was on his feet even before his horse had stopped. He saw no one and heard no one, running toward the pile of rocks. Falling to his knees, the young elf started digging, fighting his way through the mass of small rocks and earth.

The other elves watched him in shock before the sudden realization struck them. Silently, their wounds forgotten, they joined their young lord in his task.

Elrohir was at the break of unconsciousness. The last reserves of his strength were running out. As was the reserve of air in the surrounding darkness. He had spent so much time in here that the light itself seemed to be a distant legend of a sort. And occupied by all his pains, the young elf hadn't actually thought about the fact that he was blocked not only from the sun and nature, but although from the fresh air.

Feeling that his time was actually running out, Elrohir braced himself for the unavoidable. As much as he didn't want to leave the land of living, he had no real choice. Hoping that his family wouldn't despair, Elrohir took few deep breaths, ignoring the pain coursing through his body, and prepared to give in to darkness.

Suddenly something jerked his consciousness back. Was his weary mind playing tricks with him? Or was it just another landslide coming on top of the first one? No. With the rising hope a realization came to him: those distant scraping noises were of someone digging the rocks and soil away. He was found!

Elladan felt the tight embrace of panic around his heart. He was digging feverishly, cutting his fingers and palms with the sharp rocks. He knew that he was right. Elrohir was here, his body was laying somewhere under this mass of rocks. Could he survived the landslide? Elladan had no answer to that question. He would have to deal with it a bit later. But deep inside he knew that his heart wouldn't accept finding his brother's dead body. They would be together. Either by some miracle Elrohir would join him back in the land of living, or Elladan would join his brother in the Halls of Mandos.

"Look!" Glorfindel called to him excitedly, bringing Elladan back from his stupor.

The younger elf looked up to see a piece of familiar tunic that was seen between two larger rocks. With the renewed strength he started to dig again, hoping beyond hope that his brother wasn't crashed by these rocks.

"Let's pull the larger rock." Someone suggested and few warriors rose to their feet, lifting a heavy boulder from where it was laying upon their young lord's chest.

Elladan almost cried with joy. The rock managed to fall into another, pressing down onto his brother but not crushing him! Adding to this fact were Elrohir's eyes that were now blinking rapidly, blinded by the sunlight.

Assured by this discovery, elves got the younger elf free from the rest of the rocks in no time. Grinning like a complete fool, Elladan kneeled beside his brother, unable t hold his tears back any longer.

"You are alive!" He exclaimed, examining Elrohir's body for any life threatening injuries.

Finding that there were no breaks to the elf's back or neck, Elladan motioned to Glorfindel. Together the two of them lifted Elrohir and moved him away from the cliff. The young elf couldn't stopped a weak cry of pain that subsided to a moan from the lack of strength he had. His body was covered in scratches and bruises from all the rocks that had hit him. Thick layer of dirt enveloped the young elf's body. Should the situation be less dire Elladan might even joked about this fact, but right now he was too relieved and yet too concerned to do so.

Examining his brother's body, Elladan felt both fury and fear replacing the relief. Elrohir was far from being out of danger. His eyes were dazed and it was obvious that the elf was loosing the fight to stay awake. Soft gasping moan escaped his lips as Elladan's hands brushed against his ribcage and the brief examination confirm that few of the ribs were broken. There was a nasty looking wound to his thigh as well, caused by the orc's scimitar and already heated up with the infection. His left arm was broken and a rather deep gash on the elf's temple was still oozing blood.

"Let's take him to your father," Glorfindel suggested softly, placing his good arm over Elladan's shoulder.

The younger elf nodded. He took a roll of bandages from his pack and quickly tight them around his brother's chest to support Elrohir's broken ribs. He than splinted his brother's arm, cleaned and bandaged his thigh and head. Everything else would need to wait until they are back at Imladris.

"Go now, my lords," one of the warriors came to them. "We'll burn the orcs' carcasses and bring the bodies."

Glorfindel looked around, noting that the rest of their group were already making a good progress in cleaning the battlefield. He was doubting whether he should stay with them or go back with twins.

"You are wounded as well," Elladan stated, a guilt clear in his voice. "I'm sorry." He added, looking down like a little elflin.

"It's my duty to protect you, young one. I gave my word to your father and I'm intent to keep it." He looked at the rest of the warriors. "Stay safe and beware of orcs. Some had escaped into the woods and could try to avenge the deaths of their kin."

The warriors nodded, watching the three elves preparing to leave. Elladan wanted to insist that Glorfindel's wound was seen as well, but his brother's weak condition worried him greatly and so he left the elder elf to judge the intensity of the injury on his own. Getting onto the horse's back, Elladan waited till one of the warriors lifted Elrohir up gently. Of course, it would be far better to make litters and bring the injured elf home slowly, without jarring his wounds much, but Elladan feared that his brother wouldn't have the luxury of time. He waited for Glorfindel to leave the last orders to the remaining elves and get into the horseback as well. And without so much as one glance back at the tragic scene behind the young lord of Imladris started his ride home, cradling the inert body of his twin close to the heart.

Elrond was distant from the stream of life of the stronghold, pulled into the whirlpool of his own emotions. He rarely felt fear. Being hardened by the tragic childhood and many battles that he had seen, Elrond wasn't the one to let panic grip his mind. Yet each time one or both of his sons were in danger, he couldn't help feeling his heart squeezing with dread. And it was hard for him to remain calm and cool-headed while treating their wounds, be it a small scratch or a gaping wound. And the sense of unknown was even worse. He hoped with all his heart that his sons were both well, but deep in his heart he felt that it wasn't so.

As if deciding to prove his thoughts, a servant came running into the room.

"My apologizes, lord Elrond," the elf bowed slightly. "But lord Glorfindel is returning with your sons."

Elrond jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room, leaving the servant to stare in surprise at the empty spot where his lord was just sitting. Wasting no time, Elrond exited into the yard, noticing two riders that were approaching the stronghold. Two figures…

"Father!" Elladan called even before his horse stopped right next to the lord of Imladris. "Elrohir needs help."

The urgency in the young elf's voice was enough to send Elrond's mind into the first stage of panic, but he was too willful to let it happen just yet. Taking the unconscious form of his son into his own arms, he said curtly:

"Come to the healing wing. Both of you." He added, noting the stain of blood at the Glorfindel's arm. And without second glance he started walking, cradling Elrohir in his arms, dreading what his injuries might be.

The healers provided them with the room and all the supplies needed, standing aside, knowing far too well, that their lord would treat his son himself. But they were ready to accomplish any errand which Elrond might give them.

Elrond sighed heavily, looking at the Elrohir's battered body. Judging by Glorfindel's and Elladan's story, his son was lucky to survive the orc's attack… by getting into the landslide. Valar, did he really done something so horrible in his life, that the powers of Arda were trying to avenge it by punishing his sons?

"Elladan…" He started to say, but was interrupted by the younger elf.

"I'm going nowhere, father." Elladan's voice was firm. "I'm staying here with Elrohir."

"I know better then to try and shoo you away, my son." Elrond sighed with a small smile. "I wanted to ask you tend to Glorfindel's wound. There are enough supplies to treat the small army in this room."

Elladan blinked in surprise, but obeyed, deciding that it would provide much needed distraction for his troubled mind. Helping the elder elf to remove his tunic, Elladan flinched at the sight of an ugly cut, guilt resurfacing in his heart. His mouth opened for yet another apology, but Glorfindel's slightly amused voice cut it off.

"Do not be sorry for what wasn't your fault, young one." The golden-haired warrior said. "It was my choice to make and therefore my responsibility to hold."

Elladan smiled, taking a rag and starting to clean the wound gently. He cursed the orcs again, noticing small bits of rusted metal clinging to the wounded flesh. The elder elf never flinched though, watching the young one's treatment. He had survived the fight with balrog (well, of course technically he hadn't), and it would take more than this scratch to break through his will. He could have cleaned and stitched the wound himself without any problem, but decided to let the younger elf do so. At least this way he would be distracted from his injured twin.

Elrond meanwhile was working over his younger son. Well, at least he thought Elrohir to be the younger one. In fact, the twins were looking so much alike, he was sure that they were mixed up at least a couple of times as infants. But it wasn't important at the moment. What did matter, was the fact that Elrohir was injured. He had set his son's arm and ribs, grateful for the elf's unconscious state, and now was working over the wound to his head. Only time would tell if Elrohir had sustained any memory loss or other effect by the blow to his head. Right now all the healer could do was stitching the wound neatly and making sure it wouldn't get infected. The same went for the injury to Elrohir's thigh.

"So, how is he?" Elladan asked, coming to stand beside his father.

Elrond turned to see Glorfindel at his other side, his arm enveloped in a fresh bandage. The lord of Imladris sighed.

"I don't know the seriousness of his head wound. But it appeared that Valar do watch over the two of you. He received no internal injuries."

Elladan took a sit in the chair near the bed, taking one of his brother's hands into his as his father resumed treating the wound at Elrohir's thigh. He felt grateful and relieved. They had managed to escape death once again. He wondered how many deadly encounters Valar had in stock for them and why. Yet he knew one thing – Elrohir and he himself would meet those trials together. No matter what happens, they are going to meet their destiny having one another for support.

Elrond watched his twin sons with gentle smile. Even by elven standards they were children no more, but unlike the majority of elves, the two of them saved some un-adult sparkle that helped them to coup with problems smiling and laughing. Without them the life would be so much more plain and casual.

"I think it's better to live them alone for now." Glorfindel stated, observing the two younger elves. "Go get some rest, my friend. I know you were worried sick for those two reckless troublemakers."

"I can use some rest indeed." Elrond replied with a smile playing on his lips. "At least until my sons finds another way to try and get themselves killed."

With the last glance inside the room and onto his twin children, Elrond closed the door. With the deep sigh he went to his chambers. Hopefully when he wakes up both Elladan and Elrohir would have all their limbs in place and wouldn't manage to burn or ruin the whole stronghold. Or get caught in another landslide at the other side of Middle Earth, or…

Deciding that thoughts like that were not getting well with a peaceful sleep, Elrond shock his head and closed the door to his room. Even without his gift of foresight he could tell that there would be much more troubles to deal with in the years to come. Yet, if he wanted to save his sanity, it would be better to forget them for awhile. For now all that really mattered was the fact that both Elladan and Elrohir were going to be fine.

---The End---

Note: I know that the ending wasn't that good, but I may post a sequel should the idea form itself completely. Anyway, hope you liked the story.


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